Part timer?
by makatrash
Summary: A refined lady of the demon world rebukes her wrath upon earth. Or at least, she tries to. Evanora supposes it's not all that easy after all.


It was fairly dark.

It was only melting to the first few months of winter, but already had the cooling chills began to sink into the bitter evening airs. Normally, the dimming tempretures would not have fazed Urushiharu in the slightest -- he was not commonly found misplaced outside due to the black background he had so carelessly created for himself -- not when he was draped in warm comforters former-demon-general turned house-wife had so cleverly bargained for. By his computer screen; behind the dark, swirling circles underneath his eyes coupled with complacency, the boy had no reason to suffer in cold.

But, that had been before.

Now, he had no other option. With slicked hair chopped to its length of his chin and a hat (slightly flattering in its structure, but "casual" according to Ashiya) he did not look like himself. Supposedly, that was the desired goal; he could now venture out without the underlying worry of being thrown in human prison. But because of this, he was now an open target to Ashiya's nagging wrath.

Already, he had been ordered to fetch several items on their shopping list. That, unfortunately, had to have included useless, cheap, junk ("how dare you call the demonic majesties nescesties junk, Urushiharu. That is disrespectful and unseemly and surely you should know better!" had been in retaliation) that Urushiharu found no interest in. Which, presumably, made the journeys even more troublesome corresponding to the lack of enthusiasm.

However, tonight, he was not on an errand for the household.

 _No_.

Tonight, it was for himself.

The purplenette blew the remaints of his fringe out of his face, and chewed away the pessimism lingering on the lumber of his mouth, walking with set determination. His heels (laced with white-ivory soles to keep the insolation in) clacked over gravel and resounded pleasantly in his ears; and for once, was the fallen angel pleased to know that Maou did well in his advancement in Mcgronalds -- it did pay efficently for the new wardrobe, after all.

"Man," He whispered to no one in particular, as he gripped at the thick scarf sealing his mouth and nose, "it's _cold_."

And it was.

It hadn't started snowing yet, and he doubted it would any time soon, but the air was harsh like knives against his skin, and when he breathed (albiet into the provided warmth of his home-knitted scarf that was only slightly poor in make -- something about saving more money this way from Ashiya) it still riffled a horrible feeling in his stomach.

Or maybe, that was just dread.

Yes, dread was more likely.

Now, Urushiharu (formerly adressed as Lucifer) did not fall victim to anxiety often. Actually, it was a rarity. As a demon General and previous angel, he had no time for such trivialities -- it wasted valuable moments and breached holes in decades of training that he pratically had lived for. But this was different.

This was --

It had been months since he had attempted magic. The last out-come had him brutally beaten to a pulp -- reduced to only a scrap smothered on the ground by Satan himself; and not only did that bruise his physical form, but his ego as well.

\-- _different_.

It'd taken him a little over six months to replenish his magic fully, but even _then_ did he have doubts. Though no matter how much he desired it, he couldn't ghost the situation any longer. It was mandatory for him to do it tonight.

So, when Urushiharu was certain that he had not been followed, and that no one else could see him, he stopped underneath the looming slope of overgrowth and foliage, and shed his winter coat. He immediately regretted it -- although knew it would be beneficial in the long run.

Magic had a tendency to completely destroy human clothes. And, although his body suffered severly with the lowering tempretures, he particularly liked that coat so he supposed it was worth the chill. It was a thick one, dark blue in colour with black shiny buttons and a white skin on the inside. Maou had gifted it to him after a months hard work of grocessary shopping without complaint (which, had only been because Ashiya bribed him with a new game, but Lord Satan needn't know that) and even though he had pretended to be ungrateful, he really did appreciate the kind gesture.

The angel muffled a laugh. He was being absolutely ridiculous, and had he been able to hear himself aloud, he would have not thought so ludicrously. Urushiharu glanced around him a second longer, and rolled up his sleeves.

It was now or never.

Violet shades of illumination dripped from his fingers, lining his skin as it spiralled in uplifting spectre. It swirled to his elbows until they were doused in purple syrup, extending out in long alignments of thick colours of novelty. Urushiharu grunted, dug his nails into the licking lavender flame, and proceeded.

Prints of eccentric patterns pulled in the air, designing beautiful imagery -- and had he not been concentrating so hard, he would have stopped to appreciate such enthralling patterns. They blared out together in complex shapes and algebraic equations until they were rooted by the same white whips of authority that shaped his magic into what seemed to be a mirror. Long strides of purple coloured the reflective glass that rippled underneath the pressure of the on-coming winter, glimmering to the humming buzz of his magic.

Urushiharu breathed in sharply, loosing some of the concentration with a pleased grunt. He hadn't expected it to work the first time. Actually, he hadn't expected it to work at all. Recreational magic wasn't his strong point, and he imagined it wouldn't fester even a spark. Maybe the late night spars with Suzano payed off somewhat.

"Show me Lady Evanora," He commanded just to test it, although it was far from authorative. It was pleased; childish, possibly even slightly cautious too. The mirror burst into purple flame at direction though it was several moments before the fire sunk away and a figure formed.

It was a woman.

Who looked particularly displeased with her findings.

The lime snake-slit eyes were enough to prove it. She leant forward toward him, that dark ebony hair of hers flourishing out around her like black-spider-web-silk.

"You're _late_ ," she snarled and her lips curled over persistently sharp canines in annoyance, "Unbelievably so."

Urushiharu opened his mouth to protest, but her predatory glance made him think better of it. Instead, he chose to clear his throat. "I apologise tremendously for the inconvenience."

It was then that he really, _properly_ looked at her.

Her skin was _infectiously_ pale; accented with silver-scale streaks, reminiscent of a serpent. And as if to convince him _further_ of the resemblance, a forked tongue fought dryly against the air as she spoke, lining the corners of her mouth (that, evidently, were stained by sharp angular shadows of black warpaint on her chin, cheeks and forehead.) Long and defined eyelashes on the emphasis of her intoxicating iris' as well, with a dark plumage falling naturally around her face until it pooled down out of sight.

A true representation of demonic beauty.

"You should," She said, though her tone was waxed with much less venom than before (much to his relief.) "You kept me waiting much longer than I would have liked, Lucifer. I expected more from you -- however I am _pleased_ to know that my link did not go unnoticed."

Urushiharu inwardly cringed at the recallation of it, but maintained his composure. "It was _very_ persistent," He fixed his gaze with a form of irritation (that was most likely fake in all its detail), " I couldn't have ignored it even if I wanted to. _Not_ that I would have." He added quickly, when she sent him a primitive glare.

"I'm glad to hear it."

The former demon General clacked his teeth together, pressing his lips down into the grim line he had become accustomed to when dealing with Maou, Ashiya and pratically anyone else who caused him grief. She picked up on it quickly and offered him a sly smile.

" _Please_." He began, and lowered his hands from the arrangement of magic that clawed at his skin."Would you mind informing me as to why you directed me so far out at this late hour?"

She grinned, and repostioned some dark colour behind her elfen ears. "I require an adequate report of your findings, Lucifer. Did I not make this clear in my link with you?"

 _No_ , he wanted to answer back, _No you didn't_. And if he had mustered up the courage to speak it, he would've been fairly right. In all truthfulness, she had trampled into his dreams and requested -- no, demanded -- him to meet her at this location so far from the city (no questions asked) that it almost drained out all the pocket-money he had stolen from Maou on bus fares and train tickets. Then, she had dictated his dreams (not that he minded all too much; he was tired of the inevitable nightmares about noodles all the time) until he had finally decided there was no other option but to oblige to her wishes out of sheer annoyance and sleep deprivation. (She became so annoying that he dreaded sleep, so to avoid her, he fell into the habbit of staying awake for as long as he could until he was certain his mind would be to weak to form the link).

He sighed, and a sullen sarcasm stained his face. Nothing good ever came from Snake-clan demons. Especially not this one.

"Forgive me," He managed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes back into his head. "But I do not recall your reasoning. Please do explain."

Evanora glared, but it was more out of irritation than anger. "You know very well why I need that report, Lucifer," she drawled, her voice impending, "But if you need me to re-adress the situation again, i'll put it in simple terms for you. I need to understand. And you, will help me."

She shot him a mocking smile; but it was so easily deflected. "And why, would I do that? If I remember correctly, Evanora, you constantly berated me during my previous life as a General. Why would I help you transition from there to here and risk utter destruction? What's in it for me?"

Her eyes glimmered a lustrous green, and for a moment, he saw hell. "Because, my _dear_ friend. When I get my hands on that Hero, when I take over and have Satan by my side I will restore you to _all_ your former glory."

Urushiharu liked the sound of that.

There was a beat of suffocating silence before he decided it was fit to speak. Evanora perked as his mouth and tongue jarred together in complex drawl.

"There haven't been many activities since I settled into the house-hold. Other than the meager attempts to grasp some magic, nothing particularly worth your time has come into view. However..."

She settled back, interested (as well as slightly bemused at his change of tone. Easily bribed, she noted) and then gestured for him to continue.

"It is to my belief that King Satan has no intentions of returning home to Ente Isla in the near future. He has already established a poor settlement (that he calls a castle) for himself and his fellow General (including myself) and has partaken in a "job" that requires his undivided attention. Demon General Aciel seems in no way interested in referring back to his old self, and has, notably retired to the life of a housewife. There have been brief encounters with Emilia the Hero," (a deep snarl on her part) "but nothing so that I can document on her whereabouts. Although she seems particularly interested in _ours_."

"I see," she smiled, although it was hard to read -- lined with protruding colours of discreetly placed distain, "And you? What are your plans on returning home?"

He swallowed, and wrung his hands on the hem of his shirt. "I... I haven't been able to gather enough magic without raising suspicion. Maou -- _Satan_ \-- has been very skeptical of me since our battle. It would not be possible for me to do anything remotely magical without them questioning me. And so you can see why..."

She stared at him until his blood ran cold; and he felt his skin crawl at her scrutiny. "When I make my transition," she drawled, twirling black silk around her extended finger, "you will have _all_ the power you desire and _more_."

He hesitantly grinned. She mirrored him.

"But for now, let's save what you have left. I will require to meet you in seven days, so please refrain from draining your magic."

The former archangel nodded in agreement. "Then for now, I must take my leave."

Evanora nodded, albiet with evident reluctance. Urushiharu blinked, sucked in a breath, and squeezed his eyes shut in concentration.

In a moment, Evanora was a merely a faded image -- burned by the hungry flame, shaped and shrunken until she was a meager glisten of imagination in his murky teenage peripheral. He breathed a sigh of relief, and scooped up his winter coat.

It was then, that the realisation hit him.

He had no money to take the train home, and with his promise to save his magic, he had no wings either.

He gulped.

He'd have to _walk_.

When Urushiharu returned home (tired and

particularly cold from such a long trek in the winter air), Ashiya was _far_ from being pleased. He didn't even make it half-way through the door until he was hounding on his tail, a wooden spoon at hand.

" _Where_ , have you been?"

 _Crap_.

He forgot that the old man was pratically a mother hen.

"Out."

He attempted to shuffle past him after his simple response, but Ashiya would rather have lost his "dilligent" cape than have Urushiharu be dismissed.

"For _three_ hours?"

Had it _really_ been that long? The fallen angel had made no move to look at the time before he left. For all he knew, it could've have been even longer. Trust Ashiya to police him.

"It was a long walk. I got lost in the scenery. I thoroughly enjoyed myself." Excuses were easy, making them believable however --

"I sent you to the grocessary store pratically down the road, for _devil's_ sake. And not only do you return late, but without the things I sent you to retrieve!" Ashiya tapped his foot against the flooring in vexation.

"For the record, it's a thirty minute walk because _you're_ a cheap-ass and prefer everything for less."

"That's a disgustingly _vile_ acusation and you should not throw it around so hastily. As a Demon General I--"

There was an impeccably loud plethora of thumping from the other side of the wall. And _then_ :

"Please! Good Hanzo, Good Ashiya, shut up. The walls are thin and I can hear your domestic quarrel quite easily through them. And although I find it particularly amusing, I would much rather you save it for a more adequate hour!"

It was Suzano.

And she did not sound happy.

With reluctance, Ashiya lowered his extended arm and returned to his station at the cooker, shooting Urushiharu a very warning glance. The fallen angel narrowed his eyes in retaliation and flashed a finger at his elders back as he sauntered off lazily to his computer-table.

An uncomfortable silence fastened itself quickly in the devil's castle, much to their neighbours relief. _Until_ :

"I was _worried_ ," The blonde commented after a beat of momentary silence, stirring something in the pot with vigor. "You, you worried me."

Urushiharu snorted.

 _That was not likely_ , he thought to himself as he waited patiently for his computer to blink to life. _It's probably a cheap way of buying into the role of victim._

"You did worry me Lucifer," he scolded as he glanced over his shoulder for a brief moment, " I started to, _hell_ , I started to think that something had happened to you. I even requested Sire to search for you on his valiant steed, but when I heard nothing from him, I proposed the idea of phoning the police. Of course with you being a miscreant in this Earth, I thought better of it," He tapped the spoon on the rim of the pot and pushed it aside as he reached for some diced carrots cluttering the chopping board. "Please, leave a message. Or note, or something if you desire to be late next time."

The former archangel shrugged of his coat and pretended to click something on the obviously sterile computer screen. Ashiya sighed, disheartened, and returned to his cooking. It was several minutes before Urushiharu decided on an apology.

" _Yeah_ ," he managed, "Whatever."

A befitting stillness resurrected between them, however this time, it was filled with a begrudging clamity that was only perturbed by the gentle sizzling of the pot and occasional click of the mouse.

This, was the devil's castle.

A few good months ago, Urushiharu would have mistaken it for a peasants dwelling.

And could you blame him?

"I believe Sire shall be home soon," Ashiya muttered as he glanced at the small phone on the kitchen counter. "He wants to talk to you about allowances... _Lucifer_... what have you done?"

 _Crap_.

He forgot Maou was pratically obsessed with the concept of money.


End file.
